interstellar5555 | Wise men say...

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Wise men say...

Who: Roy Mustang & Riza Hawkeye
What: Roy has to spend Valentine's performing for happy couples but ~~due to popular demand~~ he doesn't have to spend the entire evening alone
When: The evening of Feb 14th
Where: An old school club with a stage somewhere in Vista City
Warnings: Brief mention of previous torture and bad war memories. Romantic mush. Might give shippers feels.

The preview performances and interviews for the album were over. Minus some drinking and new ink Roy had been well behaved while making his way through the busy schedule Pride had thrown at him. It occurred to him after several days of growing clarity that his intoxicated trip to the tattoo parlor had been less of a rebellious gesture and more of a desperate attempt to feel like he had some control left. He knew now what Pride was capable of- death had been dealt to people before him, and he was somehow not his "real self" all thanks to Pride. It took much strength not to despair.

The evening of the fourteenth Roy is relieved to be accompanied by a single body guard to a dinnertime performance at one of the old fashioned clubs out in the city. A smaller crowd awaits him in the dimly lit dining area; someone had forked over a pretty penny to Pride requesting that Mustang show up there to sing the love songs from his album to set the mood for their date. Sitting up on a humble stage with an acoustic guitar in his lap while his body guard is off taking care of unexpected car troubles leaves him feeling relief he hasn't had in what seems like ages.

"This one goes out to a very special woman," he dares to dedicate his final song of the evening, laughing on the inside at the idea of sending the paparazzi chasing their tails trying to find someone he himself was still trying to figure out. The shy girl in the old house, the woman from the battlefield sitting quietly beside him, the woman on the street corner walking her dog who hasn't yet realized he's watching her from across the street with a fond smile. "Elizabeth, you know who you are." The audience, mostly made up of couples, chuckle softly and he begins to play.

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She's quick to assure him that she doesn't mind, it's been an adventure of sorts after all. "It's not your fault. If anyone is to blame it would be those in charge of all of this." Not that she won't tease him about being kidnapped and her having to rescue him later; but still, none of this was his fault.

His question has her stumped for a moment as she tries to work out just what would have him blushing like that. It was a strange sight, to be honest, and so it took her longer than it should have to figure out that he was asking about their relationship. Of course, what was he supposed to think with the scattered memories he had. But, oh wasn't that the question of the night?

Riza starts and stops a few times before finally settling on, "It's complicated." Looking down at the table, she attempted to work out how to explain something she's not sure of herself. "We've known each other since you were my father's student. We've been together through the best and worst of times." That didn't really help did it? "You're more important to me than I can explain, Roy. But we're in the military and you're my commanding officer."

'It's complicated' can mean a lot of things, even something more affirmative, but it's not the type of answer he was hoping for, making it seem less like an open door and more like a 'no.' Roy laughs to try dismissing any disappointment or discomfort that might show on his face.

"I'm a military officer, what a stretch from a musician! I should have realized sooner. That's why I'm getting saluted by other soldiers so often in my dreams- in my memories. I must be one of the higher ranks too. What a strange choice of person to kidnap for musical performances. I'd be more useful as a political captive."

"I've gone and made an even bigger mess for you of my own free will too," he says, gesturing up towards to stage. "I'm sorry. You came all this way to do your job and I write an entire album about unprofessional feelings I might not have even told you about. For all I know I'm more like family in your eyes or I'm forgetting your significant other." He doesn't meet her eyes, he can't just yet. If she weren't next to him now he'd be rubbing his face and groaning. Why had he let himself get so caught up in an idealistic fantasy about their relationship? Jecht had been right about going too far.

Oh no. The tattoo. Jecht had warned him about that and he had gone and done it anyway. Roy's smile starts to dim as the terrible realization hits him.

If he'd been looking, he'd have noticed just how difficult the situation was to even describe. After all, she'd meant it when she'd said he was important to her. But that couldn't convey just what she meant, like how far she was willing to go for him, or long she intended to live without him. She couldn't really say all of that either could she because without all of his memories he would never understand.

"I'm not here because it's my job." She would have come after him no matter what. She'd made a promise that had more to do with her faith in him than anything else. She stayed because she wanted to. She was here because he was. It really was that simple and yet...

"You don't remember enough yet or you'd know that." Along with the fact that there was no one else in her life. There wasn't room for anyone else.

And then he starts fading in front of her, was it something else he remembered or worse? "What's wrong?"

Riza's words reach him but get twisted to be a signal he's in the 'friendzone.' Had he been in a more optimistic mood he might have kept in mind that he has much to remember still or that the fact she had come for him personally and not for a job meant an awful lot. He might have even asked her for more clarification, to know for sure if anything he felt was mutual. Apparently Roy is busy replaying his band mate's warnings the night he had gotten the tattoo instead.

He takes a deep breath and forces his posture upright again. He'll be better off groaning and expressing his pain over being 'shot down' while alone. Doesn't this woman who traveled light years to save him deserve the honesty and strength of a commanding officer?

Roy looks into her eyes again, under the impression he looks calm and collected, though in reality he's unnaturally stiff and keeps holding his breath between words. It's a sight often seen after the men on the team at home had been teasing him relentlessly about something for an extended period.

"It's more than just the album. I made an unfortunate decision while I was intoxicated, desiring to express my... inappropriate feelings." He tries to roll up his sleeve but he's wearing a nice taylored shirt, so with another deep breath and a look of determination he glances around the restaurant to make sure nobody is looking in their direction. He then proceeds to cast off his vest and start unbuttoning the top half of his shirt buttons.

She knows that looks well, has been the cause of it more than once, but she has no idea what specifically happened this time. His explanation did very little to help either. She perfectly understood what he meant by intoxicated but expressing his feelings?

He should be happy with the fact that she doesn't freak out when he starts removing his shirt in front of her. For better or worse, she's seen him shirtless more times than necessary, between forcing him to dress for meetings or when injured. "What did you do?"

Roy doesn't bother explaining with words, the tattoo itself says it all. He pulls his shirt collar down and turns his body to show her his revealed upper left arm. There it is not far below his shoulder; to be fair it's a nice tattoo. The artist he had paid a visit that intoxicated evening was one of the city's best and she had done work on famous stars before. It's like a black and white ink illustration Riza would find in books at home: a few flowers that had appeared on the cover of his album, ones with meanings that he associates with her, framed by a circle that looks more like what an alchemist would draw. At the bottom ELIZABETH is written, plain to see.

Roy hangs his head in defeat. "I'm sorry," he says again. "This might be even worse than the love songs. If I had known I never-" Would have been so direct or attempt to be so affectionate? Or do what he had done which was basically shout his love for her from the rooftops in the form of music that had been downloaded by thousands of strangers?

"I would have kept my feelings to myself."

Most of Riza's experiences with tattoos came from all the wrong sources: her father, Kimblee, even the homunculi. They're etching into her memories as death or pain. To see something so different, it was a touching change, to say the least. "Oh Roy, it's..."

Thankfully not an alchemy array.

It's beautiful honestly, there are clues that he had some semblance of memory when it was designed, and even if the name is wrong, it's flattering. "It's very nice, but you shouldn't have. I would never have wanted you to go through that." Or this.

The emotions have always been there, she knows this, they've both known, but other things have to be taken care of first. If only she could have gone along with what he'd thought he knew, but the truth will out--he would have realized it sooner or later. She reaches out and traces over one of the lines, still not completely convinced he did something so uncharacteristic. But then, this whole thing was out of character for all of them as far as she could tell.

"What do they mean?" She knows him well enough to know there's more to it than just a pretty picture.

Roy chuckles hesitantly. "I wanted to do it. The alcohol didn't help my judgement but I wanted to." He won't get into the desperation he was feeling to take control of his body and mind after discovering how Pride was manipulating him, that's a conversation for another time. "I'm guessing this is unlike my usual self? I don't know if body art is fitting for the person I ought to be." The stereotypical armed forces tattoo was devoted to a division and rarely involved flowers.

He goes quiet again and watches her expression curiously as she examines the art closer. He had just been questioning his decision to express his feelings for her moment ago when she broke the news to him but the way she traces a finger over the design makes him realize he had foolishly jumped to conclusions a second time. It's complicated. Indeed.

"Devotion, faithfulness, and magnificent beauty," he answers, still watching her expression.

It didn't fit the public image he usually kept up. The idea of Roy Mustang settling on one of the many women he was known to be seeing regularly would be hard to believe. Of course, those who knew the truth wouldn't be so surprised, not even by the name--Elizabeth was a particular favorite. She's just glad he doesn't strip when he's using his alchemy, unlike a certain Major, so it won't be too hard to keep out of the public eye.

It takes her a moment to meet his eyes, but she looks up and offers him a soft smile. "I think it's very you." Putting his emotions out there for those who'd know to see, the meaning of the flowers, all of it, even if the general idea of a tattoo was a stretch all things considered. But he doesn't remember that.

"I guess I'm just surprised. It's very specific and for reasons you have a bit of a reputation." One that was important before but was it really necessary now? Riza's not sure.

Hopefully Major Armstrong wouldn't pressure Mustang to strip with him. It hadn't happened yet but one had to wonder if the day would come eventually. Armstrong would be confused as to why Roy never shared his own muscles with the world if he knew about those abs.

Warmth spreads through his chest and his confidence grows again when they lock eyes and she smiles. This was the one person he was hoping would approve of the art on his arm. It takes him a moment then he remembers the sound of clinking glasses and silverware and soft murmurs around them. He quickly pulls his collar back up and starts buttoning up.

"I have a reputation?" he questions. He understands the very specific dedication of the tattoo to his subordinate could cause trouble but it only would if he started showing it off. "A military reputation?" His best guess after just learning that he's an officer.

"You have one of those, but it's a different one I was thinking about." It was odd how both were possible. Then again, it was surprising how no one thought they didn't mesh as if they expected the public persona he presented to be just how the great war hero should act.

"One of the things you learned during the war in Ishaval was how little our government cared about its people. Not the civilians and certainly not the military. We were all just tools to be used until discarded." She frowns at the memory. It had been a hard lesson, but it gave way to so much more.

"You made plans to change the way things were run; however, to do that, we had to make sure no one suspected anything. Part of that included a public image that paints you mostly as a lazy, womanizing, idiot." There's a slight wince when she tells him that. It's a needed but extremely annoying front to have to deal with. "All of the women were in on it as well. They worked for your foster mother, so you weren't actually leaving a trail of broken hearts around the country no matter what the local gossips and newspapers thought."

Roy has to laugh. It's not the front he would have expected to choose but he must have had his reasons. Another reason things are complicated between them, isn't it?

"That is to say my real self is better at creating a reputation typical of a rock star than I, the rock star, have been doing. My manager would be disappointed if he knew I wasn't applying myself as much as I really can."

As if Roy would put in all that effort when his passion for becoming a superstar has faded so much. He'd rather spend the day reading about chemistry and physics on this planet.

He touches his upper arm where the tattoo is hidden again under his shirt. "If the name or even the entire tattoo would cause trouble in those plans, I can get rid of it. Better to do it sooner than later if that's the case so I can stick Pride with the-" He drifts off as he speaks. "...Laser Removal bill.."

Quick images shoot through his mind like a slide show. Riza had a tattoo but then he had- "What did I do?" His hand drops to his lap as his expression starts to turn for the worse. "I hurt you."

She was about to ask what laser removal was when he did that thing again, like at the library when he started drawing the circle on the table. He could have been asking about anything as he'd apologized for hurting her more times than he's needed to. They'd been talking about his tattoo, however, and she has no doubt the two are connected.

"No." She's firm about that shaking her head. "You only did what I asked you to do. What I needed you to do." It had hurt less than the pain of continuing with it so anyone else could have eventually studied it would have. "I couldn't let anyone else have the information. It was my choice, my decision."

She needed him to understand that, even if she had guilted him into it. At the time, she'd blamed him just as much as she had her father, for everything her life had become. And it hadn't been fair, every step she'd made since her father died had been her own. In the end, the decision to disallow another flame alchemist was on her as well. They both had the knowledge to pass on if they wanted, but no one would be able to use her father's notes ever again.

"There was no other way to erase the information and it was only fitting that the flames they had created destroyed them."

He leans forward, dropping his voice but looking just as concerned. "You wanted me to burn you?" He heard what she said but it's hard to accept. Even in quick flashes of information and still pictures it's horrifying to watch and know. He had burned his enemies in war, watching someone he loved burn as well at his own hands might have been even worse.

"There was no other way?" He had just been talking about laser removal. He has met rock stars who had old tattoos inked over. To someone from Tera burning off a tattoo would be unheard of.

Riza's been through this enough times that there's very little emotion in her voice. There was no second guessing and no regrets for any of it, beyond having to tell him all of this now. "You didn't want to, but I couldn't let anyone else see it. I couldn't risk someone else deciphering the notes."

She remembers his face when she asked him; it hadn't been easy, but it wasn't the worse thing either of them had done in Ishval. Not that that made it any better, but she wouldn't have left Ishval if he had refused.

"It was too much to bare on top of everything else at the time. We both saw the destructive force of flame alchemy first hand and it held me down just as much as every life I took peering through my scope. And even if we had something like lasers, I would have had to trust someone else first." That trust had not been an easy thing to gain before Ishaval; after, it was worse.

Roy stares down into his wine glass in silence for a while. The civil war is more than just a nightmare that came to haunt them, he realizes, they did not return home together to recover and put that life behind them and forget. Is that why they're not living that happy life together he had naively guessed they have?

"I see..."

They are still atoning for what they did during the war.

"There's still much to be done at home, isn't there? I want to go back. Even if it's not everything I imagined." Mainly the part about them happy together.

"If I find a way to escape with you I still think we should stay and help the others who have been taken from their homes. It would be against our duty if we left this potential enemy of Amestris free to kidnap others from our country, don't you think?"

"We're trying to correct the entire history of Amestris, so yes, there's a long way to go still." Not only in correcting relationships with their own people but the surrounding countries as well. They couldn't just explain what had happened and expect everything to be okay--no one was going to believe them. It was definitely a work in progress.

To hear him restate some of her own concerns about the others and those who brought them here was encouraging. He really was there, even with all the things they'd done to him. There's a quick nod, "I'm glad you think so as well. We can't let them get away with this or risk it continuing."

"We'll see it done then. Hopefully my memories of training will return quickly. I'll be able to do much more to help when I am myself again."

An idea comes to him and he digs in his suit jacket pockets for his pen and notebook. He tears a sheet out from the pad, lyrics and notes are scribbled on the pages before it, then he quickly jots down a name and address.

"I go regularly to a flower shop here in the city. Thistle Do Nicely. This is the address. Pay them a visit and let them know your contact information. I'll update you on my condition and the on goings at Pride by having them send you bouquets and notes. Pride will likely know if I start calling someone outside the company but they've turned a blind eye to my flower purchases."

Why is she not surprised by that? Of course, he'd be a regular at a flower shop even without knowing why, but it's still so laughable. She takes the paper and makes note of the address, she'll go by in the next day or so.

"I suppose I'll have to finally buy a vase." Not that she expects him to remember that but, the idea of him stuck with a shop's worth of flowers isn't that outlandish.

And speaking of calls, "Actually, I have your number. Supposedly. I didn't try it, but it wouldn't surprise me if the guy who gave it to me wrote his down instead."

Who would have given Riza his phone number? She wouldn't be gullible enough to think some random stranger would have access to his actual contact information. Kid only ever pushed him to spend free time with lady musicians and stars for appearances.

"You met someone from MANTICORE?" he asks. That must be it. He writes down his real phone number and shows it to her.

"I was working at the club where Squalo performed last night." Perform is one word to describe what happened on stage. There are several others that could be used as well, but even if she knew that kind of language Riza wouldn't use it.

She looks at the number surprised, "What do you know, that's the one he gave me. I really didn't expect that." After everything else Squalo had been, honesty wasn't even close to being on the list of expected traits.

"You met Squalo," Roy says it slowly. "I'm sorry." He doesn't need to know what happened, he's apologizing.

"He really thought to give you my number? You must have asked for it- he wouldn't otherwise." There's only one number Squalo hands out everywhere. He should make business cards.

She has to laugh at the apology. It's not his fault Squalo is Squalo.

"It was actually his idea." Of course, it came after he had insulted Roy and was shocked he had a fan. She had to promise him a favor later, but it had been given of his own free will and without prompting. Not that she thinks that excuses anything else Squalo's done.

Roy raises a brow. "Are you sure you weren't talking to an impostor? Or was he handing my phone number out to random people at his performance?" He would do that.

"I saw the...performance, so I'm sure it was him." Performance is such a nice word for the show Squalo put on, some of it came so close to indecent she was afraid they'd have to get a hose. "Have you received any unexpected phone calls from fans?"

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